


You will be king.

by goldfinchex



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Study, Gen, Loki is King, Loki is Loki, POV Second Person, Tagging is hard., but like seriously it's like Loki and his musings, fanfic writing is a nice distraction, i think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-31
Updated: 2015-01-31
Packaged: 2018-03-09 20:45:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3263801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldfinchex/pseuds/goldfinchex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You also know that you have the capacity of being a king Asgard would never forget. A king that will have thousands of songs sung in his name. You can obey mother’s wishes, make him proud." </p><p>Or: Loki decides he will be king, a good king, before it all goes down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You will be king.

You sit upon your new throne. It is cold and hard, too big for your small frame and you secretly think that it does not go well with how pallid you are on this day, but you lounge upon it all the same and watch your subjects stand below you, small and obedient from your vantage point upon the dais. You have guards, and for a brief moment, wonder why the regent needed guards when the princes needed them much more in their everyday idea of fun. You wield Gungnir with apparent ease and familiarity—you have been holding spears and knives all your life, it was not heavy, not in that sense. But if one looked closer they would see that your knuckles were white and your palms were sweaty.

You long to shift your gold helmet because in your haste, you had put it on slightly askew and now it was a great hindrance. The weight of the crown did not rest well on your head. But you cannot bring your hand to move. Weight of the crown. Your fingers are frozen upon your new staff. It feels too foreign in your hands. But you’ve always known how to put on a good show for appearances sake.  

 ~~Father~~ Odin has fallen into the Odinsleep. He looked upon you wearily. Good riddance. Tired of telling a lie, has he? And they called _you_ Loki Liesmith. Were you really nothing like him? You want to deny it.

The kingdom would be a mess without a king, a king that was asleep for an indefinite period of time.

 ~~Mother~~ Mother has given you the throne. You looked upon her warily. She gave you a throne—the throne—would Odin agree with her decision? You think not.

Mother thinks you will be a good king. ‘Make me proud’, she said.

What is mother playing at? She knows what you are.

Your skin still itches. You long to scratch at it. Scratch the blue out. Peel back the armour to reveal the skin and then peel the white skin off to get to the blue beneath and tear that mutation out of you and then you can finally be pure oh is that why you were never like golden glorious Thor—

Thor. You think of Thor, cast down to Midgard. What’s that bitter taste on your tongue? It’s dry. It tastes of metal. Bitter. Mother would have given him the throne if he was here. No, no, she wants it for you, she knows you are better prepared than he, but he would have gotten the throne all the same. Now he would not.  

Both of you were born to be kings. Odin never wanted you on the throne. The second son always gets the second best. When was _Jotunheim_ second best? More like second worst—second worst to Niflheim. If there was one thing the Æsir feared more than the Jotun, it would be death. No, they did not fear death. Why would so many sacrifice safety for an afterlife in Valhalla if they feared _death_?

You think of Sif and the Warriors Three, charging into battle so recklessly without any care for their lives, knowing that if they died they would be granted Valhalla and honoured at a state funeral. You have seen lesser warriors burn in their boats, watched the fire ignite, the ashes swirl into the air, with hundreds watching and wishing them a fast ascension to Valhalla for an eternity of drunken debauchery.

No, it was a death-for-cowards that they feared.

Were people who feared cowards or was it just you?

_“You’re a ~~bully~~ monster! ~~Bullies~~ Monsters are cowards!” _

How rhetorical. You knew the answer even when you were a hundred and forty-one years old.

Mother told you the answer.

You know what you are.

Monster.

You shut your eyes.

Your grip tightens on Gungnir. When you see nothing, you can pretend that nothing has happened. That everything was still fine, that Thor was not going to have his coronation and you thought you were content and even perhaps happy, that you were still Loki Odinson, best student of the Seidr—not that there was much competition to begin with—and every day passed by in relative peace and harmony save for the many visits to the rest of Asgard and beyond for the slaying of Bilgesnipes and ridiculous quests that sometimes involved Thor-the-Bride. You had followed him without complaint; if you were being honest you would confess you made too many a sarcastic quip about Thor’s predilection for mayhem but it was not as if you did not create your fair share of chaos within Gladsheim.    

Why was it so _unfair_? Why was it always Thor that got the better end of anything? Why was he born to the Æsir and you were born to the _Jotun_? Why, why, why? You tremble slightly, what from, you do not know.

But, but, you will not be a monster, would you? You aren’t one. You are Loki, you are brilliant, better than everyone else. What you saw in the vaults, no one need know. It has been a secret for so long, it can stay a secret for another eternity. Duplicity was your forte. It was not as if he was doing anything lesser than the previous king. Everyone would turn on the House of Odin if they knew what you were. No, no, it was better if it was kept a secret. 

You also know that you have the capacity of being a king Asgard would never forget. A king that will have thousands of songs sung in his name. You can obey mother’s wishes, make _him_ proud. You did not need Thor by your side to do that. Better still, with him out of the way. You won’t be dwarfed by his shadow now.  

You will make mother proud. She will not have any need to think of you as a monster, the orphan boy Odin found in the winter wasteland. You will make new policies, make Asgard prosper, improve trade ties, diplomatic relationships, examine the council and weed out the incompetent and corrupt, bring important houses together...

Your eyes snap open as you hear four sets of shoes stride into the throne room.

**Author's Note:**

> And it's 1am! Yay. School has just started so it's orientation right now and I have nothing to do after being a productive child all day, so a short fic thing it was.  
> Thanks for reading and leave a comment if you wish!


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